Datura
by Lisiara
Summary: One-shot, AkiHika, fluff. Akira's feelings are more complicated than even he knows - is the Hand of God all he sees in Hikaru, and what will it take to make them see the truth?


The usual disclaimer applies: they belong to Hotta and Obata, and I'm just indulging myself shamelessly.

A/N: I'm going to apologise in advance for what has to be the biggest plot cliché ever, and also for stealing a line from Neil Gaiman; it's credited at the end. Warning: shameless fluff. Oh, and shounen-ai/slash – whatever you want to call it. The title sucks, but I like the song and I couldn't think of anything else that wasn't ridiculously over the top.

****

Datura

__

Is there room in my heart

For you to follow your heart?

~Tori Amos, Datura

"I have nothing."

I am surprised; normally Shindou concedes to me with an air of rueful amusement, but today he seems distant, distracted; he stares blankly at the board as if it means nothing to him. Strange, I think; his behaviour has been different from usual all day. I wonder what is bothering him...

"Shindou?" I ask carefully. He has not looked at me since we entered the salon; is he angry with me for some reason? Will he attempt to dissect the game with me as we do so often, attempts that inevitably end in screaming rows? He doesn't reply; merely murmurs something under his breath and begins clearing the goban. Strange, I think again. This is a side of Shindou that I haven't seen before; usually, he is beyond noisy, bright as his given name with chatter and joking.

"Is something wrong?" I ask, instinctively. This time, he does look up, focusing on me curiously. There is something in his eyes that I don't like, a bright glassy look that I don't understand.

"Huh? Touya? Did you say something?" he asks, dropping stones into the go ke and brushing that idiotic bleached fringe out of his eyes.

"...You're not listening to me again!" I say, and I know that the tone of my voice is too harsh, too accusatory; I know that I am provoking him, but this time I cannot stop myself. Why does Shindou have to be so annoying? He never listens to anything anyone says, he gets away with the most ridiculous hands that from anyone else would be laughed at! It's as though he were put on this earth to drive me insane!

Predictably, his brows draw down and he bristles. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demands, clutching at his fistful of stones. I can see the knuckles of his hand slowly turning white, and realise that this fight is going to be one of the noisy ones. "Maybe if you would talk about anything other than Go, people would pay more attention to you!"

Now I can feel my own temper flaring. "Well, at least I don't play with half my brain switched off! Just look," I gesture at the half-cleared board disbelievingly. "What on earth were you trying to do here, have a dolls picnic?!"

Shindou is glaring at me, and in amongst the fury I feel a strange sense of relief that he is back with me, alive again. "I was trying to trap you here," he grinds out, pointing accusingly at an uneven cluster of stones around the lower right hoshi. I blink at it for a minute, trying to grasp his intent. Sometimes I think that that is half the reason why Shindou is so fascinating to me; his mind works in ways I don't always understand. I was brought up with Go; I have spent my life immersed in its intricacies, absorbing the wisdoms passed down by my father and his teachers. But Shindou is different; he came to the game late, he sees it differently. And perhaps he sees me differently too, perhaps to him Touya Akira is more than just the son of the Meijin and the most well-known of the younger generation. I cannot decide whether I like the idea.

"What were you thinking?" I demand loudly. "Were you _even_ thinking, you idiot? There's no way that would have worked on anyone who's played for more than a month!"

"Oh yeah?!" He's shouting now, on his feet and leaning towards me with his palms braced flat on the table. With a start, I realise that I too have risen and am facing him just as angrily. "Just because you won this time – if it had worked I'd have caught you _here_..." he's pointing, but I don't even need to look; this has become such a routine between us that I know he's not truly looking either, embroiled in the fight.

"What kind of idiot are you?! Anyone who's played against you before would know to watch for something like that, you're too predictable!"

"Oh yeah?! What about here, then? I've seen you make that move a hundred times before, Touya!"

"You're doing it again!" We are nose to nose now, barely an inch of empty space between us. Hikaru's eyes are hard and flashing, boring into mine, more like diamonds than emeralds.

"Oh yeah?!" Sometimes I think half the reason he does it is that he knows how it annoys me. "You're so pathetically petty Touya!"

"Like you can talk!" We are so close now that all I can see is him, filling my universe as we shout into each others' faces. He is animated, glaring with heated fury, and again the strange thought passes through my mind that I like him better this way, when the spirit within shines through, when he most resembles his name. Quietness and introspection do not suit him; Shindou Hikaru is the most alive person I have ever known. _We are so different..._

Confused, I blink at him. Suddenly I feel... strange. I have always known that together we are formidable opposites, but suddenly it seems as though his brightness could burn me, shine through me and consume me utterly. For a brief, strange moment I find myself desiring that, wanting nothing more than to be drawn like a moth to his flame. He is there before me, his angry words echoing in my ears, and there is nothing else at all... Fury draining out of me, I open my mouth to tell him that I am leaving, but Shindou forestalls me.

"I'm out of here," he announces loudly, flinging his handful of stones viciously into the go ke. For a minute I think that I can see the sharp indentations in his palm where they have cut into the flesh, but surely it is just my imagination. I watch as he grabs his bag from Ichikawa-san and storms out of the door. Ichikawa calmly continues with her paperwork, thoroughly used to our post-game fights, while the other patrons of the salon study their own boards intently, not meeting my eyes. They, too, have grown used to the unorthodox interruptions, and have learned to ignore them.

Shindou Hikaru. There is a connection we have that I have seen in no one else; sometimes it scares me. I know his game as well as my own; he has come closer to me than anyone else, ever. No one else has ever dared to tell me to my face that I am wrong; Shindou does so constantly. _No one else..._

I blink again, realising that I am still standing at the table, staring into space. The other patrons are still determinedly not looking at me, but Ichikawa-san is giving me curious looks from the desk. Gathering my scattered wits, I finish clearing the board and collect my jacket to leave. Ichikawa-san smiles at me and wishes me farewell; her smile is warmer than the polite expressions I receive from most people. Within the Go world, I am used to politeness from the elder pros and blankness or outright sneers from the younger. Slipping my feet into my shoes, I realise that I am remembering the way Hikaru smiled last month when we were grouped together for the demonstration day. He has no pretence in him, and I recall with a strange sort of astonishment that he really must have been delighted to see me. The thought makes a strange feeling settle in my stomach, and I shake my head to dismiss it, pushing through the outer doors of the salon. I turn to the left, towards the main street that will take me home, and all thoughts of my own welfare vanish in a flash of concern.

Shindou is leaning against the wall of the building, his arms wrapped about himself and his head bent forward so that I cannot see his face behind the two-toned curtain of hair. I can see his body shaking, and even as I am wondering whether he is crying – and how he would feel when he realised I had seen him – his knees seem to give out and he slides limply down the wall towards the pavement.

I am there before I realise that I have started to move, grabbing onto his shoulders and hauling him upright. Shindou isn't as heavy as I expect, and for a moment in the back of my mind I am nonplussed, wondering why I had any expectations at all. He looks up at me in confusion, and I see that his eyes are glazed and his colour high; I put one arm around him to support him and even through his clothing I can tell that he is burning with fever.

"Touya?" Shindou's voice is hoarse and quavering. "I... I don't feel good..." The thought crosses my mind that I would have been surprised if he did, and unaccountably I can feel myself blushing. It doesn't matter, though; I have to get Shindou home before he collapses completely. I contemplate going back into the building and asking Ichikawa-san to call a taxi for me, but that would mean leaving Hikaru here, because he's in no state to be going back and forth. As it is, he seems barely conscious. Perhaps a doctor would be better...? But I don't know Shindou's doctor, and the clinic of my own is further even than Shindou's house.

"Shindou, do you have your cell phone?"

He blinks at me for a moment, then mumbles something that sounds like 'In my bag." I take the rucksack from his hand; a check of the pockets comes up with the phone, and I dial quickly and order a taxi, urgently. Shindou is swaying on his feet, and I keep a tight hold on the sleeve of his jacket, just in case. If he falls down, I will be unable to pick him up again.

"How long have you been feeling ill?" I ask, feeling unaccountably guilty. If he was sick, and I had fought with him... perhaps it was my fault that he had been taken ill in the street...

"Si... since yesterday," he gasps out, doubling over in a fit of shivering. I can feel the tremors running through him, and hope that the taxi will arrive soon. "I... thought it was... just a cold..." This seems like more than a cold to me; I press my hand to his forehead. His skin is hot and dry with fever, and he stares into my eyes as though they hold the secrets of the universe. "...Touya..." We are closer than I had realised; the brush of his fingers against my throat startles me so much that I jump backwards, and I can feel myself blushing again, furiously. Hikaru doesn't seem to notice, but he reaches out his hand towards me again, and I cannot look away from his eyes. Time seems to stop for a long moment...

The sound of a car engine startles me out of my stupor, and I look around to see that the taxi is pulling up alongside us. Unwillingly, I turn back to Hikaru; his eyes are unnaturally bright, and seem to pierce through me. Our eyes meet, and he smiles, that huge, sudden smile that always takes me by surprise. Or maybe it is just him...

"Come on, get in the taxi," I tell him, trying to ignore my blush. There is no reason for it, it is irrational, it will go away. "The sooner you're home the better." I open the door for him, and take his hand to help him in; he settles in the corner of the seat, huddling into himself like a child, and I follow. It is only when I am giving the driver the directions that I realise Shindou still has hold of my hand. I curse myself for blushing again and try to pull away, but his grip is strong and he refuses to let go, clutching me tightly as if afraid I might disappear. I resign myself to spending the journey in this manner, since it appears I have little other option.

Shindou's house isn't far; it's not long before the taxi pulls up outside, and I realise that somehow I am going to have to get the half-sleeping boy leaning against me out of the car and up to the door. Hoping that his mother is home, I turn and speak to the driver. "Can you wait here for me? I won't be long." He nods assent and I open the door, shaking Hikaru awake and eventually all but pulling him out. I am worried by the way he leans against me as we walk to the door; he is shaking again, and seems unable to stand on his own.

Thankfully, his mother opens the door within seconds of my knock. "Yes? Oh! Hikaru!" she gasps, lifting one hand to her mouth, then reaching out to take charge of her son. Within minutes she has him indoors and propped up on the sofa, and is feeling his forehead and peering down his throat. If I weren't so worried, I might have smiled; I remember my own mother treating me just this way when I was younger. Strangely, it reassures me; Shindou will be fine, I will not have to worry for him, he will turn up for our game on Monday night just as loud and exuberant and healthy as ever, and give me that bright, shining smile again...

I don't understand, as I turn to leave, why the image gives me such a feeling of joy.

***

Even in the fevered sleep of exhaustion, Hikaru knows that something is wrong. There is something missing, something he cannot touch or define, something he needs... He wakes confused and disoriented, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling in bewildered puzzlement. _This isn't my room..._ It isn't Touya's ceiling, either, or any other roof he recognises. _Touya...? What? Where is this place?_ Attempting to lever himself upright, he finds both that the bed beneath him is hard and unfamiliar, and that his arms don't seem to work as well as he remembers. _What's happened to me?_

He is in a small room, a small white room with no windows and a single door in the wall facing him. From the metal-framed bed and the lack of other furnishings, Hikaru realises that he is in a hospital. He blinks, looking down at himself, but he is wearing his own pyjamas, and he cannot see any bandages anywhere, only a single band-aid on the back of his left hand. _Have I been sick? Why am I here? _Cautiously, he prods at it with his finger; it aches a little, like poking a bruise, but it doesn't seem life-threatening. Where is everybody? Hikaru wonders if he should get out of bed and go to look for a doctor or nurse, but just as he is starting to move his legs – which feel even wobblier than his arms – the door swings open and his mother walks in.

"Okaasan?" She looks tired, Hikaru realises, and worried, and he wonders if that is concern for him that he can see in her eyes. As she sees him, her eyes light up with relief.

"Hikaru! You're awake!" To his astonishment, she rushes to his bedside and throws her arms around him, hugging him hard.

"Kaa-san," he protests weakly, feeling he is about to be smothered.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're all right! The doctors said you would be, but you were just lying there and I was so worried!" At least, Hikaru thinks, no one else can see them. Gingerly, he pats his mother on the back, hoping that she will release him soon. Eventually, she sits back, sniffing and dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. "Sorry," she murmurs, giving him a weak smile.

"What happened?" Hikaru asks in puzzlement. "Why am I in the hospital?"

"You've been ill, dear. You had a fever on Saturday – that young Touya-kun brought you home in a taxi – and it got so bad that I called the doctor, and he decided to bring you in here." She smiles at him again.

"How long was I asleep?" Hikaru asks nervously. She had said 'Saturday' – what if he has missed his Monday night game with Touya? And – _Touya brought me home in a taxi? I don't remember that..._ Hikaru frowns, thinking back. He recalls being at the Go salon, and fighting with Touya, clearly, but after that... He had gone outside, and then... everything is confused in his mind; he thinks he recalls some strange images, of Touya's face, of the other boy's hand on his forehead... Touya blushing, for some reason? Perhaps it's all just fever dreams – Hikaru doesn't know.

"Two days," his mother tells him. "They put you on a drip for a while," she indicates his hand and he realises why the band-aid is there. But...

"Two days?" he asks in increasing panic, wondering whether Touya will be angry with him. "Kaa-san, what day is it now?" He clutches at her sleeve; he knows what Touya looks like when he is angry, knows how his face changes and hardens when Hikaru has done something wrong, again. "Did I miss my game?"

"It's Tuesday evening," she informs him severely, frowning now, "and never you mind about games. The doctor will be coming to examine you soon, and you'll probably have to stay here for another few days so you don't relapse."

"But I was supposed to play Touya at his house last night!" Hikaru cries, genuinely distraught. He wonders why he is so upset about this. He enjoys playing his rival, yes, but... "And I have pro games on Saturday that I can't forfeit..." The prospect of long, boring days in this little white room stretches uncomfortably before him; he wonders if he will be permitted visitors, or if his illness is infectious.

"Yes, I know," his mother soothes him, patting his shoulder. "I expect you'll be out of the hospital by then, don't worry. And Touya-kun called last night," she adds as an afterthought. "I told him you were here, and he said not to worry about missing your game – besides, you played him on Saturday, didn't you?"

"Yes, but..." Hikaru wonders how to explain this to his mother, who doesn't even understand why he plays Go. How to tell her about the obsession a pro has with the game, about the search for the Hand of God? How can he explain the nature of his relationship with Touya, the way they have chased each other, focused on each other, the way they know each others' minds and styles inside-out? Shindou Hikaru and Touya Akira – not even the other pros understand the nature of their rivalry. They pull each other on, reaching together for the Hand of God. Akira is like a part of himself, Hikaru thinks; he is the only person who can understand how much of an outsider Hikaru feels sometimes, just as Hikaru himself is the only person who can reach beyond the walls Akira builds around himself.

He shrugs in resignation, and his mother smiles at him. "Well, the nurse said you could have something to eat when you woke up; are you hungry?"

***

I approach the reception desk nervously, wondering if I will be permitted to see him today. I had only found out that Shindou was in hospital on Monday night; he had promised to come over to my house to play, and as the time of our appointment had passed, along with the next hour, I had grown first irritated, then worried. He had been ill on Saturday, but surely if he was still unwell he would have called to cancel the game... Eventually, I had picked up the phone and called his house; there had been no answer the first time, but the third time I tried his mother had picked up the phone and told me that Hikaru was in the hospital. My mind went blank; I don't remember what I said, but it must have been something polite, because Mrs Shindou thanked me and hung up, and I was left staring at the wall.

I had known he was ill, that Saturday, but he must have been sicker than I thought, to be taken into hospital... Eventually I went back up to my room, and as far as I recall spent the next several hours sitting in front of the goban, just staring at the empty board. A horrible level of panic had set in; I think I was imagining what it would be like if Hikaru never came back, if he died or something happened to him. If I could never play him again, never meet his Go with mine and in doing so push both our games to a higher level... Without him, what would I do? I could not imagine a world without Shindou Hikaru, could no longer imagine _Go_ without him. Strange, how far five years have brought us...

"Excuse me?" The receptionist smiles professionally at me and once again I remember the uninhibited delight in that expression of his. "I'm here to see someone – Shindou Hikaru – could you tell me where I should go?"

"Shindou Hikaru?" She taps something into her computer, and I see the scrolling lines of the screen reflected in her glasses. "He's on the fourth floor, room 81A." She glances over at me. "Visiting hours don't begin for another fifteen minutes, but I don't see why you can't head on up there now. Can I have your name, please?"

"Touya Akira," I tell her, and she taps it out on the keyboard, then hands me a clipboard and pen and shows me where to sign.

"You'll have to sign out again when you leave," she tells me, and points me to the elevators across the lobby. I thank her and cross the floor slowly, pressing the _up_ button. I am not entirely sure that coming here was a good idea; what if Hikaru doesn't want to see me? What if he is busy, or expecting visitors? I keep telling myself that I must not forget that he has a life outside of Go – unlike myself. We are so unlike, so opposite – why should he want to see me? The prospect of being turned away with a polite phrase distresses me more than I truly understand, and I remember the last time we played each other officially, at the Go Institute. Hikaru had won narrowly, and his friends had congratulated him on beating me as though it were a feat of heroic proportions, clapping him on the shoulder and leading him off with them. I remember standing there looking after them, just watching him walk away from me, happy and chattering, and not understanding at all how I was feeling then either. It was strange to me; I felt as though I wanted to take hold of his arm, to keep him with me, to tell all those laughing, noisy friends of his that Shindou was _mine_; my rival, my equal, my...

Are we friends? I don't know. The elevator doors open before me, and a nurse exits, pushing an elderly woman in a wheelchair. Her ancient eyes stare at me keenly, and I wonder whether she is a fan of Go, if she recognises me. I step into the lift, and push the button for the fourth floor, almost reluctantly. Shindou Hikaru knows me better than anyone else; he is closer to me than anyone else, both personally and in Go. And I cannot imagine a future without him; the thought has eaten at me until I have given up and made the trip over here, just to reassure myself that he is well. It will be enough to see him, I think as the elevator carries me upwards. Nothing else really matters.

Walking down the corridor towards his room, though, I begin to doubt myself again. Why am I here, when I could have just called? What if he doesn't want to see me? I see him as a friend, but Shindou has always been surrounded by people, and while I am his rival, I know that he sees me differently from his friends. I clench my fists around the handle of my bag, and force myself to continue on. I am here now, I have come all this way, and to turn back at this point would be both cowardly and wasteful.

The door of 81A is closed, and I knock quietly, part of me shamefully hoping that he will be asleep, that he will not hear me. But I hear a muffled voice calling me in, and even through the barrier of the door I can tell that it is his. Swallowing, I turn the handle and step inside the room.

Hikaru is sitting cross-legged on a narrow bed, sheets of what look like kifu spread out across his lap. He looks up eagerly as the door opens, and blinks as he sees me. "Touya?" Something strange seems to have happened to my lungs; I cannot draw breath to greet him. He looks startled to see me here, but as I hover uncertainly in the doorway, his expression changes, a huge, dazzling smile spreading slowly across his face. And abruptly, something crystallises within me and I realise for the first time what it seems I have always known.

"You came to visit me?" Hikaru looks delighted, and I cannot prevent my own face from smiling back at him. He is so bright, this shining boy; no one would be able to tell he has been ill. "Come in!" He beckons me over, hastily shuffling the kifu into a messy pile at his side. I slip off my shoes automatically and move uncertainly over towards the bed.

"How are you?" I ask; he looks well, but I need to know.

"I'm fine," he replies at once, shooting a glare at the door that I assume is for the doctors. "They won't let me go home until tomorrow; I'm bored out of my skull sitting in here all day."

I indicate the pile of kifu. "So you're studying...?"

"Yeah..." he passes them over, and I recognise the first few immediately; they are some of my father's old title matches. "I asked for a goban, so I could at least play them out, but they don't have one here and Kaa-san had to go back to work." Hikaru scowled, as though the failure of the hospital to possess a goban is a personal affront; it is so like him that I cannot help smiling again. Instead, I unzip my bag and pull out the old practice board that I have brought, and Hikaru's smile becomes incandescent. He will burn me to ashes before he is done, and I know I will offer no resistance.

"I thought you might like to play," I offer uncertainly, holding out my gift like a sacrificial offering. Hikaru places his hands opposite mine, and for a moment we are utterly still, caught up in each other's eyes. Then he takes the goban from me and sets it in front of him, gesturing for me to sit across from him. Awkwardly, I clamber onto the bed and settle into the familiar kneeling position. We nigiri, and I take black and begin fuseki. The game evolves before us like a flower opening, fragile and transient, and suddenly I am no longer uncomfortable. Strange, the power that Go has over me – over both of us, for as I look at Hikaru's intent face I know that we are equal, and more than equal. We belong to each other; no one else will ever be able to compete. Only the phoenix arises and does not descend, but we rise together.

His moves are as bold and innovative as ever, and for a moment I think I see the echoes of my father's style in the way Hikaru cuts me. I hesitate for a moment, stone poised over the board, reading ahead, and just as I have decided that I must be equally bold to regain my advantage, Hikaru's fingers touch mine, uncertain, and I gasp, looking up at him wonderingly. His eyes meet mine, and the intensity between us is almost painful. "Akira?" he asks softly, and I realise that he has called me by my name for the first time. The stone falls from my hand to the board with a plasticky ticking sound, but I don't notice; my hands lift seemingly of their own accord to touch his face, and then I am moving forward and I don't know whether I'm more surprised that I am actually doing this or that Hikaru is leaning in to meet me.

***

Akira's lips are soft and uncertain, and Hikaru thinks that he has never felt anything so amazing in his life; even winning his first game against Touya never felt like this. _Akira_, he tells himself, pressing closer and shyly slipping his hands around the other boy's shoulders. _His name is Akira, and I... I..._ He feels the hands cradling his face slide around the back of his neck and pull him even closer. He has never imagined that kissing could feel this good, and Hikaru starts a little as Akira's tongue lightly touches his lower lip. Good – this is beyond good, and he parts his lips eagerly, wanting more.

He can feel Akira pressed against him now, feel the other boy's breath warm on his face and an electric, tingling heat everywhere they are touching. This is not a dream; Akira wants him too, wants him as more than a rival, wants Hikaru, not just the shadow of Sai, not just his Go. Dazed, Hikaru wonders why he has ever thought of Akira as cold, when he is so warm now, in his arms. Akira's tongue touches his hesitantly, and Hikaru moans silently, tilts his head back and gives himself up utterly to the new and wonderful sensations. His hands are tangled into Akira's long hair, and his body is pressed against the other's, and he knows now, knows that this is part of what they have been searching for, together. There is more to life than Go, and more ways than one for them to complete each other; soon there will be no more distance between them. All Hikaru really knows is that he wants to melt into Akira and never, ever let him go.

A sliding, ticking waterfall of sound jars Hikaru out of the haze of sensation and warmth that has surrounded him, and he reluctantly looses his hold, pulling away from Akira. Their eyes meet, and Hikaru knows that he is blushing just as furiously as the other boy, but he is helplessly caught, unable to look away. No, he thinks, there is nothing cold or controlled about Akira now; he looks stunned and dizzy and more beautiful than anything Hikaru has ever seen. His lips part in a soundless "Oh" and he looks down shyly, blushing again. Hikaru follows his gaze, and sees that they have unthinkingly upset the goban, letting the stones slide off the edge of the bed to fall in a scatter of white and black across the floor. Hikaru thinks of the fallen petals of the flowers his mother grows, and laughs happily.

"...What?" Akira asks, looking up at him again, and there is a strange uncertainty in his gaze. Hikaru knows what he is feeling, what he is wondering; how could he not, when five years of chasing has left them as much a part of each other as their own hands?

Where do they go from here?

He reaches to slide his hand into Akira's hair again, feeling the silky texture of the dark strands against his fingers. Akira leans into the touch, that shy smile lighting up his whole face. Hikaru knows that that smile is only for him; understands at last that it always has been. "You should have brought a magnetic board," he tells Akira, leaning in to kiss him again. They will start this game anew, together; they will make their own path, both to the Hand of God, and to each other.

__

fin 

'Only the phoenix arises and does not descend' – Neil Gaiman, in Sandman 74, Exiles.

Datura: also known as moonflower, and extremely poisonous. Symptoms include fever, dizziness, dry mouth, dilated pupils, flushed skin, rapid pulse and delirium, all of which can be symptomatic of... other things.


End file.
